


A Wish Your Heart Makes

by LadyShadowphyre



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels are immune to djinn venom, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Djinn Dreams, M/M, Sastiel Creations Challenge, brief self-impalement, set during the beginning of season nine, unless they're suddenly graceless humans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 16:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14814990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyShadowphyre/pseuds/LadyShadowphyre
Summary: It was the perfect life. Not many people would agree, but it suited Castiel and the Winchesters just fine.





	A Wish Your Heart Makes

**Author's Note:**

> [Sastiel Creations Challenge](http://sastielcreationschallenge.tumblr.com/) | [@ladylilithprime](http://ladylilithprime.tumblr.com/)  
>  ↳ **Theme:** Monsters | **Prompt:** Djinn

**I** T WAS THE perfect life.

Not many would agree, of course; everyone's definition of "perfect" was unique to the individual and, while there might frequently be some overlap, it was very rare that two or more people might have truly matching definitions. Add to that the sort of changes a "non-standard" upbringing might create in a person's priorities for happiness... Well, as Dean had once remarked, a lot of people took having a stable address and place of residence for granted, so having a home - a real home, not just a base of operations out of which the Winchesters worked and in which they occasionally slept - might seem to an outsider like a low bar, never realizing just how high a bar it really was. Sam in particular had not had much luck with having a stable and stationary home, despite repeated efforts to change that over the years. An old bunker originally belonging to a now-defunct secret society of supernatural researchers might not be the most traditional of homes, but it was theirs and that was the important thing.

Charlie, the hacker who had helped them against the Leviathans, had worked a minor miracle in the eyes of the humans and completely eradicated Sam and Dean's criminal records from any and all digital archives, and had set up a watch to ensure the records couldn't be retrieved without pulling up all sorts of warnings with labels like "classified" and "secured data" and "authorization required". Neither Dean nor Castiel knew exactly what that meant, but Sam was happy and so that was enough for them. Moreover, Charlie had unlocked accounting and payroll information from the Men of Letters computers and dusty files. For the first time ever, there were actual legitimate bank accounts for "Samuel Alexander Winchester", "Dean Michael Winchester", and even "James Castiel Winchester". Castiel had been shocked that they would include him so thoroughly in their family when he had been turned away before, and had very nearly protested until Sam had reached out and pulled him into a hug, the first real and voluntary hug Sam had given him when Castiel was in his right mind.

"You belong with us, Cas," he'd said. "Me and Dean, we're not all that great at emotions and healthy communication, but you gotta know... You're family. And I - we - love you."

"Do you?" Castiel had dared to ask, having caught the slip and very nearly held his breath as he had waited for the response.

"Yeah, I... I do," Sam had admitted, dropping his eyes and ducking his head to hide his sudden blush. He hadn't pulled away from Castiel's touch when he had reached up to brush aside the soft fall of hair, and he had been more than agreeable to Castiel's request for a kiss.

And so the unconventional Winchester family built their unconventional home together with Charlie and Kevin coming and going as they wished. Sam was happy to delve into the Men of Letters library, sorting and cataloging the books, working with Charlie to preserve older texts and with Castiel to translate others. Dean nested happily, eager to finally be providing the home he had always felt Sam had been robbed of by Azazel's plots to further the early Apocalypse, and while he would find hunts occasionally they were sparse and rarely required the Winchesters to leave home for more than a day or two. And Castiel divided his days between helping Sam with the library, or allowing Dean to instruct him in "the human condition" since he now lived among them as one of them. At night, Castiel shared Sam's room and Sam's bed - their bed, Sam insisted - and would fall asleep held securely in Sam's arms, feeling safe in a way he could not remember ever feeling even in Heaven. It really was a perfect life.

So it was perhaps a cause for concern when Sam entered the lit library after dinner to find Castiel sitting at the long table staring at the cover of a book of Middle Eastern legends with a pensive expression on his face. "Cas? Everything okay?"

"Sam." The former angel looked up, blue eyes dark with the heaviness of an inexplicable sadness. "Are you happy? Living here, being... being with me.... This makes you happy?"

"Well, yeah," Sam said, sounding puzzled but at least willing to take the question seriously. He came around to sit on the edge of the table next to where Castiel was sitting, facing him. "I mean, sure, it's been an adjustment, getting used to having a home and... I'm sorry, but there's probably always going to be a little voice in the back of my head worrying about the next big threat coming along and killing you like everyone else I've loved--"

"One might argue that I have already fulfilled that requirement and 'gotten better'," Castiel broke in gently, making air quotes because he knew it would make Sam smile.

"There's a thought," Sam conceded with the expected fond smile. He sighed. "I get that it's not ideal, but our lives have never been what the majority of Americans consider normal. That doesn't make it any less amazing and perfect, just different." He huffed a low laugh. "Honestly, if I didn't still wanna kick His ass, I'd probably thank God repeatedly every night that this is my life, because as weird as it is... I have you. I have Dean and I have you, and that makes all the weirdness more than worth it."

"I see," Castiel said, looking down at the book, then back up at Sam with a soft smile that belied the serious expression in his eyes. "I love you, Sam Winchester."

"I love you, too, Castiel Winchester," Sam answered solemnly. He bent forward, and Castiel tilted his head back to accept and return the offered kiss from his beloved, lingering on the feeling even as Sam slowly pulled away and straightened up. "It's getting late. Come to bed?"

"I will be along soon," Castiel assured him as he straightened up out of the embrace of the chair and reached for the book. "This is the last of it for today."

"Okay," Sam agreed, getting up and dropping one last kiss on the top of Castiel's head. "I'll be waiting for you."

"I shall not keep you waiting long," Castiel promised, watching as Sam left the library before turning back to the table. The book was regarded with that same pensive expression from earlier, then set aside with a sigh. Instead, Castiel reached for the silver letter opener resting against the base of the small lamp and, with a last glance towards the door, plunged the blade into his chest.

 

**C** ASTIEL JOLTED UPRIGHT from the floor of the broken-down cabin, his hand seeking and mercifully finding the hilt of his borrowed angel blade which he had painstakingly coated in lamb's blood from the butcher before coming out to the abandoned property. The djinn's power was not supposed to be able to affect an Angel of the Lord, but it seemed without his Grace he was more susceptible to the Supernatural. It was as disconcerting as it was irritating, and Castiel supposed that he would have to find some way to cope with this new facet of his disgraced and diminished state...  _ after _ he dealt with the djinn.

Grace or no Grace, the former Angel still had his combat training and exceptional reflexes, a fact he was grateful to learn when the djinn attacked and he managed to dodge out of the way and get the blade up between them before she could lunge again. It struck home, and Castiel slid to the floor, his malnourished body having less energy than needed to remain standing just at that moment. At least the djinn was dead, and all that was left was to burn the body.

With a stifled sigh and a grunt of effort, Castiel heaved himself up off the floor and began dragging the djinn's corpse out of the ruined cabin so as not to set the whole dilapidated structure ablaze with the body. It would make a decent shelter for the night, allowing him to make his way back to Lebanon proper tomorrow during daylight, one more threat to the people he loved eliminated.

He refused to allow himself to dwell on the impossible scenario the djinn's power had conjured.

  
**O** NLY THREE MILES away in an old bunker, Sam Winchester frowned and reached for his cell phone. Before his fingers even touched the casing, his body stilled as his eyes flared blue with the light of Grace. His hand dropped away from the phone, the number for the intended call to an absent angel who should have been there with him left undialed outside of his own mind.

**Author's Note:**

> If you need cheering up after reading this, please go read [Better In Person](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13001826), which can be taken as an unofficial sequel to this story.


End file.
